


Here, There Is Peace

by bellamyblke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellarke, Bellarke slowburn - Freeform, F/M, and the way i think a lot of you guys will like, clarke and bellamy are a TEAM fighting for their family, fix-it fic basically, i'm so beyond outraged at the way s7 was handled, multi-chapter fic, so therefore i'm re-writing the entire thing to end it the way i would've wanted it to end, the delinquents are the main characters again!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamyblke/pseuds/bellamyblke
Summary: In the biggest test of their lives, Bellamy and Clarke must grapple with an interplanetary war that threatens to tear their family apart. As tensions rise, so do the stakes. How far will they go to prove that there can be peace in survival?Or, the season 7 re-write everybody asked for.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Here, There Is Peace

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends! welcome to my fix-it fic. as we are all aware, season 7 of the 100 has been an absolute dumpster fire that almost everybody detests. i'm here to try to give us a season 7 the way i would've liked to see it and hopefully, u guys will enjoy it as well.
> 
> my goal is to 1) give bellamy an arc considering the show couldn't do that for him 2) return clarke to her main character status (instead of being sidelined) 3) focus on what i loved most about this show - the delinquents fighting for each other, finding meaning in survival and 4) to finish off bellarke's 6 seasons of development in a way that is actually satisfying and meaningful to fans who have been baited way too many times. i can't guarantee it will be perfect or that the sciencey aspect of the plot will make sense but...the show isn't exactly great at this either so. bear with me!
> 
> if there's anything you would like fixed or you would like to see (bc i'm kind of writing this as i go and can incorporate anything at this point), feel free to drop it in the comments below. or you can find me over on tumblr as clarkadia!
> 
> without further ado, let's fix this shit!

Clarke feels guilty.

Not for the death of Simone or Josephine. Not for locking Russel up in solitude, as he processes and grieves the loss of his entire family. And she most certainly doesn’t feel guilty for taking over the farmhouse he built and using it to keep her own people in.

 _No_ , she decides as she stands at the kitchen sink. _I feel guilty for being unhappy._

“Hey,” Bellamy greets her as he enters the kitchen, running a hand through his hair. Clarke doesn’t look up as she continues to scrub the dishes left from this morning’s breakfast. She can feel the frown on Bellamy’s face before he even says anything.

“What part of ‘Hey’ did you not hear?” His tone is one of jest and humour.

Just then, Madi races through the kitchen with Picasso trailing close behind her. She whoops and hollers, riling up the golden retriever as they speed out the back door to where the rest of her family is sitting outside, soaking up the golden rays of the planet’s suns.

 _Scrub, scrub, scrub_. That’s all she thinks to herself. Maybe the harder she scrubs, the more of her guilt she can erase.

Bellamy’s hand is suddenly over hers, stunting the rhythm of her back and forth motion. Clarke is finally snapped out of her daze and gazes up at her best friend, her confidant.

“That cup looks pretty clean to me,” Bellamy says gently. His grip is cautious but firm as he takes the cup from Clarke and places it on the drying rack next to the sink. He shifts to lean his back against the counter, arms crossed. Clarke stays where she is, dish sponge in hand and fingers severely pruned from the scalding water.

“You wanna tell me what’s up?”

The tension she’s been holding eases, a feeling that she’s now come to associate with Bellamy’s presence.

“Nothing,” she lies in one breath.

Bellamy gives her a look that says, _Bullshit_.

“I swear!” She doubles down. “I’m fine. Look at this place!” She gestures around with the sponge still in her hand.

Bellamy keeps his eyes trained on her as she continues.

“We’re in this beautiful farmhouse. We’re alive and breathing, eating whatever we want whenever we want. This is everything we ever hoped for when they sent us to the ground.”

Just then, Murphy stalks into the kitchen, plucking an apple from the island countertop. He gives Clarke and Bellamy a silent wave before leaving to join the others outside.

“Everybody’s happy,” she adds quietly.

“Not everybody.” Bellamy points out.

He’s seen right through her, as he always does.

“It’s just…I feel guilty. And selfish. Selfish for feeling guilty.”

“Clarke, you’ve just lost your _mom_. This is normal.”

“But --” and she can feel herself spiraling now. “We’ve been through so much…hardship. So much anguish. Finally, we have found some semblance of peace and our people are settled. I should be overjoyed, fulfilled. Instead, I feel…empty.”

“Because it’s not the way you envisioned it. Not without your mom.”

She shakes her head at the same time tears threaten to escape the edges of her eyelids. “I just – she should be here. She deserved to find peace too.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Bellamy breaks it. “Maybe she did, in the end.”

“How? By dying thinking I was already dead?”

“By finally getting to rest.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. She wants to believe that’s true; after all, she was no stranger to the belief that life was hell on earth and death was the true way to peace. Her memories bring her back to a time back on Earth, lips cracked and bleeding, gun pressed to her head in anguish. There was no doubt then that ending her life would’ve been the only way to truly put a period on her suffering.

But then she pushed through and ended up here, with her found family. They ate breakfast together around the table for every meal, passing plates of food around as if they had been practicing this domesticity their entire lives. She’d never seen her friends smile so often or laugh so fully. There was a sense of relaxation, something she never thought she’d get to experience unless…well, unless she was dead.

“Clarke, I don’t mean to be a pessimist,” Bellamy bursts her thought bubble. “But even though it may seem like we’ve found a good home here, there always seems to be some sort of trouble looming around the corner. Who’s to say that tomorrow we won’t be fighting for our lives again?”

She puckers her lips and dips a hand into the sink, yanking the drain plug out of its socket. “Real comforting, Bellamy. Thanks.”

They both watch as the dirty water in the sink starts to deplete, a vortex swirling above the drain.

“Abby died thinking you were dead, yes. But don’t you think she would’ve found peace in the end, thinking she was going to see you again?”

Clarke hadn’t thought about it that way. This time, a tear does spill onto her cheek, leaving a track down her face as she peers up at the man standing beside her. He’s already gazing back, their shoulders so close they’re almost touching and –

“Bellamy?”

They both jump and turn in unison, finding Echo staring at them from the other side of the kitchen island. She’s got a bag slung over her shoulder and another gripped tightly in her hand. There’s a slight frown on her face like she’s just tasted something sour, but the moment passes as she addresses Bellamy again.

“Gabriel and Octavia want to leave to check out the anomaly now. I packed everything I thought we’d need.”

Bellamy blinks hard – once, twice, then three times before he snaps back into action. “Right. Thanks, Echo.”

“How long do you think you’ll be?” Clarke asks, worry starting to seep into her bones once again.

“Should only be a few days,” Echo responds as Bellamy moves around the island to take the pack. “I’m not entirely convinced about Gabriel’s theory anyway so we may be back even sooner.”

Clarke looks between the two of them as they share a glance, a pang of jealousy searing its way through her chest. Forcing it down, she gives a genuine smile. “Okay. Please be safe. And look after each other?”

Echo nods quickly before turning to leave down the hallway and out the front door. Bellamy hesitates, turning back to Clarke. She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much while I’m gone,” he says through a smile, but Clarke can hear the underlying uncertainty in his tone.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Good.”

Bellamy lingers still, his dark eyes searching her face. Clarke worries he’s about to get left behind so she makes a shooing motion with her hand, urging him to go.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says through a laugh. Turning, he strides down the hallway disappearing from her view.

With a sigh, Clarke glances back at the sink and watches as the last of the water empties, the vortex becoming smaller and smaller until there is nothing left to circle the drain.


End file.
